Concrete Angel
by Ginny-Rose95
Summary: Rachel was alone, falling into a darkness she didn't understand, and she attempts to reach out to the very people that had caused the depression for help. Based off Concrete Angel but not about child abuse, songfic.
1. Chapter 1

Rachel watched through tear-strewn brown eyes as the glee club held a 'secret' meeting without her. She had heard Mercedes speaking about it but when she talked to Kurt he had blatantly denied it. Standing in front of the cracked open choir door, she understood why. She blinked back the tears as she heard the hateful words she'd always feared they said but could believe. She listened to Mercedes rant angrily about her, Santana calling her a hateful bitch, and on and on.

She wanted to say something, anything to defend herself but it felt as if her throat was caught. This was her to them, some judgmental bitch that controlled everything but it wasn't her as she knew. If she was any bit of the girl they thought she was, she would have walked into that room and greeted them with a cheerful smile, let them know that she knew they were talking about her but that she didn't care because every star had a little infamy, it came with the job, and then sit in the front, and pretend she didn't notice the alienation of herself as everyone else moved one seat up.

But she wasn't that girl now, that strong girl who could ignore the whispers, the consternation, and most of all, that sinking feeling that came with the realization no one truly cared. Right now, she wasn't Rachel Barbara Berry, future rising star, just Rachel, a normal high school girl who couldn't understand that why in a group of misfits, she was still the outcast. A girl who blinked her tears away at night as she sat in an empty house, wishing for the phone to ring, even if it be just her fathers checking in. A girl who stood on the outside, wishing someone to invite her in.

Right now, she wasn't the girl that would walk in with a smile and wield her only defense, her clever wit and sharp tongue, against her oppressors, who would lash out with veiled insults and bright masks. She was that girl who suppressed away her tears and stood on the outside. She couldn't hide anymore, she didn't know why, and her shame seemed raw in the light. She wasn't strong but weak. She wasn't wearing a bright smile, but hiding shining tears. She was about to turn away from the room, unable to watch anymore as Santana imitated her horribly to the laughter of the club, when Mr. Schuester came behind her.

"Rachel? What's wrong?" his voice was filled with concern, and Rachel wished for a moment that she could believe it was real, but he was already passing her, not really noticing that the traditional 'nothing' that passed her lips was missing. She had missed her chance to be able to speak to Mr. Schuester, really speak to him like Finn or anyone else could, a long time ago. To him, she was the linchpin of the group, the strong adhesive that held together unstable, flammable material and somehow got them to work together. To him, she was the constant; constantly cheerful, constantly strong, constantly happy. For him, her unhappy or God forbid_, depressed_ was unthinkable. Once, she could have said the same.

"Mr. Schue!" she smiled brightly as he turned around, "I have a song I want to sing to the club, may I?" he nodded, smiling, the concern already gone. That was Rachel, nothing could be wrong with her, she was concrete, the sturdy mix that would never fail. She smiled as if it were true. She turned to the glee club, that deceiving smile still in place.

"I wanted to sing a song that I think reflects a lot of people in the world. It's the holidays now, and a lot of us are going to spend it with family, you know," she smiled brightly as if she really believed her next line, "besides our glee family, and I just wanted everyone to remember that some people aren't as lucky as us to have such wonderful families, like this one, ones that don't care enough for them," the smile fell and her eyes were so intense as she stared down the club, a few shifted in their seats almost guiltily, almost. "So I'm singing a ballad from the world renowned country singer, Martina McBride, '_Concrete Angel'_." She smiled again before standing in the center of the room, the pianist already beginning the notes.

"_**She walks to school with the lunch she packed,"**_

It was morning, and she was alone again, her fathers out on some trip. It didn't matter that it was their daughter's twelfth birthday, she was a mature girl and she understood how important her fathers' jobs were. That's why she blinked the tears away as she hummed happy birthday to herself and walked down the street, hello kitty lunch box in hand.

"_**Nobody knows what she's holding back**_

_**Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday**_

_**She hides the bruises with the linen and lace, oh,"**_

She could feel them there, the painful reminders of how hatred she truly was. The purples mixed into the greens to provide the colorful manifest of her days. If she concentrated enough, she could hear the gleeful laughs as the footballers left her on the ground, bruises already forming across her back, hear the horrid taunts.

She wondered as she stared unrelenting at her fellow glee-clubbers, if they could to. If they remembered the times they had laughed with the rest as the stinging cold of the slushy dripped down her face, blistering the tender flesh of her chest under her shirt. If it haunted them at night like it did her, leaving them crying themselves to sleep in a too quite home. She doubted it.

"_**The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask,"**_

Mr. Schuester was staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. He looked as if he wanted to stop the song, to cease it before his fears were confirmed, before he saw the cracks through the concrete. Before he saw the girl beneath the stone, before he saw the real Rachel.

"_**It's hard to see the pain behind the mask,"**_

She smiled brightly, and Mr. Schuester relaxed. He didn't even seem to realize the words she sang, merely pausing to enjoy the sound of her angelic voice before going back to wherever he went during one of Rachel's numerous solos. She desperately wanted him to understand but of course, the pleasant voice hid the harmful words, and it flew over him.

"_**Bearing the burden of a secret storm**_

_**Sometimes she wishes she was never born,"**_

"Don't say things like that Rachel!" her father yelled, tears in his eyes as he looked at his pride and joy, his fifteen year old daughter. She stared back impassively; all the tears she had shed were already gone from her eyes. She had done it; she had unleashed her deepest and most terrible secret into the world to her father of all people, and she felt horrible.

She stormed from the room silently, slid into her room and locked the door behind her. Into the bathroom she went, staring at the too pale skin and overly bright, pink eyes in front of her. Beside her, near her right hand, was a nonprescription pain pill bottle. That was the first night she had first considered suicide, in the morning she had taken it all back. She had told her fathers she hadn't meant what she said, that she'd been upset at everything going on in her life and that truly she loved her life and was grateful for her birth. That was the first time she'd lied to her fathers. It wasn't the last.

"_**Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone**_

_**In a world that she can't rise above,"**_

She was sinking fast now, staring at the faces in front of her. All now, seemed to have caught on to what she was singing about and their faces showed back their thoughts. Some were guilty, Tina's and Kurt's faces shone in it, but they were very few. Mercedes and several others were impassive. The ones that hurt were the others. Finn was staring at her as if she were some kind of freak, and Santana was whispering something in Quinn's ear, causing both to laugh.

Rachel could feel the tears coming, and she didn't hide them, letting them fall as she sang the song with a feeling none in the room could say they'd ever heard Rachel sing before. None could guess that it would be the last time as well.

"_**But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place**_

_**Where she's loved concrete angel,"**_

She closed her eyes from the faces of the Glee club, from the scorn of Santana and Quinn and thought of a different life, one where she was accepted. She had dreamed of it before, a wonderful life where few hurt her intentionally and her life wasn't spent in abject terror of the abuse she would face at school, or the loneliness she felt at home, but where at least someone had accepted her.

She had thought she had found that dream in Finn but he had turned from her, first for Santana and Brittany, then from her horrible mistake. She had thought she found it briefly in Jesse St. James but he had tried to use her for sex and then left her. Recently, she thought she found it in the friendly companionship of Kurt but once the boy had returned from Dalton, new beau in tow, he had been all too willing to join the Berry Hate Brigade.

And so she was left to just what she thought the boys had become: her dreams. Once upon a time they had been happy, a loving family, mother included, a few friends she could count on without worrying that they would turn on her in the next moment, the simple things. Now they were darker; a time in which she had never been born, where she watched Finn marry Quinn as high school sweethearts and Puck live a good life, where Mercedes and Kurt got their fair share of solos and the glee club was truly a place for happiness.  
>Sometimes, her dreams were even darker. Where they, the glee club, cried over her funeral; her grave was but a small reminder that she had lived, truly lived, at one time. That dream had become more frequent now, and as she heard the whispers turn to jeering laughter, quiet, but carrying, it briefly became a fantasy.<p>

"_**Somebody cries in the middle of the night**_

_**The neighbors hear but they turn out the light,"**_

Many of nights, as she lay in bed alone, tears had come, silent at first, but sobbing and dry retching soon followed. Her fathers were never home on those nights and she always managed to play the noise complaints off as her practicing her all-important singing. Her fathers never doubted her and the neighbors never spoke to her parents directly, merely grumbled about it over the phone in messages she deleted soon after their appearance. Neither party cared enough to ever double-check her claims or to ponder why a seemingly happy teenage girl would be crying more and more frequently through her nights.

"_**A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate**_

_**When morning comes it will be too late,"**_

It was too late for a lot of things; for her to make things right with Finn or Jessie or Puck, or to become friends with any of the glee-clubbers. It was too late for a lot of things, but as Santana 'accidently' pulled the plug to the microphone she was using, she realized the most important thing as laughter emerged. It was too late for anyone to care about her. As she stormed out the door, tears falling down and leaving a salty, glistening trail behind her, the glee club didn't realize it was also too late to save her.

_**Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone**_

_**In a world that she can't rise above**_

Rachel wrote the letters carefully, in her scrawling and curly writing, and signed each with a torn gold star. She wasn't a shooting star, a she'd always thought, or even that concrete evidence that proved the glee club was there, breathing, kicking, and strong. She was a falling star, bright in the few moments that it flashed across the sky, but doomed, no matter how many times she got back up, to fall back into the dark abyss below her. This time she wouldn't get back up.

_**But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place**_

_**Where she's loved concrete angel**_

Rachel had finished the letters, the ink had dried as well as her tears and she had placed them within two pale pink envelopes, one directed towards her fathers, one to the glee club before going to the bathroom and grabbing the pill bottle. In one go, she downed the bottle in its entirety, noting its nearly half-full state as she forced it down her throat. With dry eyes (she had never thought it would be this easy, this simple) she laid herself on her bed and closed her eyes.

As she faded she swore she saw an angel, it's face beautiful, but it's smile sad, as if it knew her, and was said to see her go. She reached for the angel, and it grabbed her hand and led her away from the darkness, into a pale but warm light. Her fathers found her with a smile on her face.

_**A statue stands in a shaded place**_

_**An angel girl with an upturned face**_

The rock face looked like her, weathered but still as beautiful as she had been the last day he'd seen her alive, singing her heart out to an oblivious and uncaring room. The hair was stone but it cascaded down, bearing the striking resemblance to how hers had looked, the lustrous brown locks that he used to run his fingers through. The body was carved into the elegant grace she had held herself in and his breath caught in his throat as his own withered hand went to stroke her face, shivering slightly in the cool touch.

_**A name is written on a polished rock**_

_**A broken heart that the world forgot**_

_Rachel Barbara Berry _was written there, followed by her birth and death date: _December 18__th__, 1994 – March 5__th__, 2010, _she had been barely sixteen years when she had taken her life. Below that were no words, but an engraved star. He ran his fingers over the star, not minding as it cut into his fragile skin. It had been sixty years since the love of his life had died of a broken heart. His never let him forget it.

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><p>I was bored and was listening to Concrete Angel when this popped into my head. I wrote it down and decided to upload it. I left the man at the end up to anyone's interpretation, whoever you guys thought would love her. I didn't really have anyone in mind, but if you review, I'd love to hear what you guys thought it might have been. I enjoyed writing this, sad as it may be, and hoped you liked reading it.<p> 


	2. Letter One  Dear Dad and Daddy

Originally, this was only a one-shot but one reviewer asked for me to write the letters (well, mentioned that they would like to read them anyway) and it wouldn't leave me alone so I sat down and wrote this. It's the first letter, to her parents, but I'll try and get the next one up. I'm going to leave the story as complete though, but expect the next letter up soon. Please enjoy.

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><p><em>Dear Dad and Daddy,<em>

_ I know that by the time you read this, I will be with God in heaven or with the Devil in hell, if you believe that and I know I have left you two confused, upset, and undoubtedly angry. I've done a selfish thing, the most selfish thing it is possible for a human being to do and I'm sorry, but that's what I am. I'm selfish and when the world gets hard, I give up. That's the truth, and I think you both knew that. That's why you had me in singing and dancing for so long, that's why you supported it so much._

_It was because it was the only thing I didn't give up on. After trying soccer, cheerleading, science camps, band, the whole she-bang, dancing and singing was the only thing I was good at, the only thing I stayed with and actually cared for. So you supported me, and I'll never forget that. I know you cared, in your own way, but even though I know you tried your hardest and I will never forget it all, I can't help but feeling a little resentful. There, I've finally said it._

_ I wished you were there more, that you actually __**noticed **__I was a real child, a person, rather than some miniature adult that you allowed to live in your household and provided you with brief entertainment as repayment. I was there when you wanted to be fathers, and when you didn't, you had the money and a nanny took care of me. You had never even gone to a single one of my competitions since I was three, not even when I was in the running for nationals with my glee club. _

_ I've told my friends that all those things you've kept, those mementos from my life, were because you loved seeing them again and again, but I know the truth, and you know the truth. The only reason you had them was so you could see them the first time. Whatever person was taking care of me that week recorded or took pictures so you could see them, that is, if you weren't too busy. I doubt you've even been through half of that stuff, but hey, it looks good._

_ I know I'm being unfair to you, ungrateful, spiteful, and I don't want to, I really don't. I loved you both, from the bottom of my heart, and I wish I had the strength to still be with you still, to live and grow up and give you beautiful grandbabies and make you proud, just like I always planned. Like we've always planned. But Daddy, Dad, I'm __**tired. **__Everyday just getting up is a challenge. _

_I don't look at life and see something that provides a challenge, something I can attempt to conquer and win, but a never-ending mountain. Even if I can see the top, even if I feel like I have reached the summit, I fall again, and I keep falling. Down and down, until I'm so bruised and beaten I can't get back up again. I used to be able to heal these injuries, daddy, dad, but they just keep coming and even if they heal they've left scars. Ugly, marring scars that hurt as if fresh whenever someone presses against one, and they do, every day._

_Did you even know that I cried myself to sleep every single night for the past two years? No, because you've never spent the night here in this house since I started high school. You are always away; some business trip always meant more than your only child. Those complaints you got from the neighbors about me? They weren't about singing. Maybe I should have told you about that, should have told you how I felt about the world, my life, __**me. **_

_I'm worthless. I'm horrible. I'm bossy. I'm ugly. I'm loud. I'm overly proud. I'm fat. I don't care about others. I'm jealous. I'm all of these things and more, and people never wasted a chance to tell me it. I never went a day through school where someone didn't whisper how I didn't belong, that I was worthless, a freak. I never went a day that someone had thrown a slushy at me, that I didn't feel the cool sting of grape icicles as they slid down my shirt or feel the hot twinge of humiliation burn my cheeks._

_Right now, looking at my chest, I can see these ugly blisters where my skin has been hit so many times; it's an almost permanent red. It hurts, Dad, Daddy, so much. All I wanted was to be wanted, to be cared for, and it's never happened because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve happiness, only loneliness. I don't deserve loving, doting parents or caring friends, but to be alone. I didn't deserve you two, who cared so much and now have to brace the storm as I throw it back in your face. I don't deserve to live._

_I suppose you might be thinking 'why didn't she tell us? We could've helped!' I did. Don't you remember when I told you I wished I hadn't been born? That wasn't to hurt you two, to make you feel bad, but the truth. I truly believe that if I hadn't been born, if you had been given a good child, a normal child that led a normal life, you would have been better off. Everyone in my life would have been better off if I hadn't ever existed. And so, I am trying to rectify the problems my living has created._

_Despite what I believe to be your faults, I loved you both, and I know that if I had that missing something, you guys would have loved me more, I understand that. It wasn't you that had distanced yourself, but me that had worried all your chances for a perfect child, so I'm ridding myself from you. You were wonderful parents, and no doubt, if you had the right child, not such a screw-up like I have become, you would have been the perfect parents; you still can be._

_You both are still young, try for another child. The world is more accepting of gay partnerships than they were when you had me and is infinitely easier to get a surrogate to have your child, try again. Maybe this time your son or daughter, my little sibling, will have that something I didn't. You don't even have to tell them about me, your selfish daughter who gave up. I doubt they would care who I was, or maybe even hate me for hurting you so, but I deserve it._

_You deserve the child, a perfect child. If you do tell them about me, tell them I'm up in heaven, a room that looks over them, that I am their older sister that will always be there to protect them, not physically, but spiritually. Even if it's not true, if there isn't a God and I will simply remain in the ground, no longer existing, they will bring comfort through it, if they care. If it's a girl, please name her Violet for the daughter I'll never have, Christopher for a boy. _

_You might not even read this, you might just throw in a fire and watch it burn, and I perfectly understand. I've hurt you beyond comprehension but I can't keep going. It hurts and I'm so tired. I've finally fallen so far off that mountain that I can never get back up again. I just can't. I'm not that glowing star we've always thought I was. _

_I'm not shining brightly in the sky, higher than all the others, in a place where people can't touch me, I'm on the ground, a shooting star that's run its short course, and the lights are fading from me. Soon I'll be just a glimmer, a soft shine left from the sparkle I used to be, and sooner rather than later, that will disappear too. I'll disappear soon, an obscure bump on your road, a bad memory that you'll try to distance yourself from, that one horrible moment you will try to forget._

_If you do forget me, if you manage to shake me from your mind, I'll understand that, honestly. But I love you both, so, so much, and I wish you all the happiness the world can offer, it will surely be more than I ever could. Try to live on, to live a life worth living and find whatever you've been missing from me in a new child, do it for me, if nothing else. Love that child, my precious baby brother or sister I'll never meet, and be there for them. _

_Be there where you weren't for me, honor my memory in that. Whenever they are down be there for that. When they are happy, share that happiness. When they are sad, take that sadness and turn it around, like you used to do when I was that tiny thing that fit in your arms and when a glass of water could cure anything. I love you both so much, and I'm so, so sorry for doing this to you, but I can't keep going, I'm hurting too bad._

_I know you will never truly understand why I did this, I don't even understand completely, but I hope this letter brings you solace, that you find peace in these last words. I hope with these written words, you can understand, even just a little, that you see why I did it. I hope you realize in the end, there was nothing more you could have done, I was already gone. I want you to know that you did your best, and I love you._

_ Love your beloved daughter,_

_ Rachel Barbara Berry, a fallen star_


	3. Letter Two Dear Glee Club Part I

I'm telling you now, this isn't all the kids. It got long and I knew I wasn't going to finish it tonight, so I decided to post what I had. I'm going to take the story off of complete because I don't know how many chapters it will take to finish this. Right now this is only three people and it's relatively long_.  
><em>Either way I hope you enjoy it.

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><p><em>Dear Glee Club,<em>

_ I can honestly say, that despite this being my last goodbye to you all (for it is, not some sick joke that you might think it is), I'm not as sad as I should be about it. You were supposed to be there for me. We were supposed to be there for each other. Sometimes we were, sometimes we were backstabbing each other in the back and when that happened, did you stop to think who got the most hilts sticking from them? No, but just in case you are wondering now, me._

_ When you get this letter, for one day you will, probably from my own fathers, I hope you realize what you've done to me. What you all did. For when I walked into that room, that room that sparkled with people seemingly similarly musically inclined and brimmed with unshed potential, I was strong. Vivacious even, but you guys tore that down. You broke me, and I bet you enjoyed every damn minute of doing it._

_ That's why I shed no tears as I write this. I hold no regrets as I say goodbye, no 'sorry' to maybe but a few, since that few sometimes (not always but sometimes) tried to help, even if the attempt was mediocre at best and few and far between. For the most part, you all took your turns in destroying something strong. I walked in as a proud, strong-willed girl, and I left broken, defeated, worthless, and tired._

_ I doubt you will even read this, if you'll even care enough to hear the final goodbyes of a girl you hated. A girl you probably celebrated the death of, but if you do decide to listen on, I'm sure you will find things to interest you. After all, if there is one thing the glee club can agree on, it's the use of blackmail, and besides, you all will need a new scape goat after I'm gone, won't you? Why not try each other on for size? Trust me; I have enough to say about each one of you to last a lifetime. _

_ I know all of your secrets, because if there's two things you all agreed on it's that I was trust-worthy of your secrets at least one point in your life, and worthless about 99% of the rest of the time. That statistics made up, but it's probably still more optimistic than the actual result, and at one point I would have grasped at that little straw. Now though, I'm too tired to. Too sick of all the – excuse my language – complete bull shit you all put me through. So hear it goes, my list of secrets, my mini letters to each and every one of you. Enjoy hearing my goodbyes. It's the last time you'll hear from me. _

_ Let's start with the top – Mr. Schuester, how are you? Do you finally understand now? Or are you still confused, shaking that perfectly curled head of yours, wondering why? Probably the latter, you were always rather oblivious, after all. A shameful fault really, in retrospect. Don't get me wrong, you were my favorite teacher and I respected you. Maybe at one time I could have trusted you, could've relied on you like the rest of the glee club did, but you quickly shut that down._

_ It's funny really, you always talked about us being a family and yet, what was I to you? The ugly step-child? The distant cousin that was only invited for necessity and a few good laughs? I guess I'll never know. I guess I never really cared, either. Either way, you ignored me in favor of the others. Who cared that Rachel was caught trying to puke her guts out by Miss Pillsbury because she wanted to be pretty, Quinn was pregnant! Who cared that Rachel's heart was broken into a thousand pieces; the glee club was finally unified on something! Who cared that Rachel was missing, Quinn was having her baby! _

_ Who cared that Rachel wasn't talking much anymore? Who cared that she never smiled, and when she did, it was fake? Who cared that she was obviously not okay? Who cared that the glee club was talking about her, that they excluded her from everything despite the notion of family? Who cared that she was crying? Who cared that she was singing a song about hurt? Who cared that she stormed out of the club, crying? Who will care when she doesn't show up for school the next day?_

_ Apparently, not you. Maybe at one time you did, but I can't honestly remember when. Sure, you asked about me when you thought I looked down, but did you honestly want to know the truth? Or did you want me to say 'I'm fine' one more time, even if it was a lie, just so you wouldn't have another emotional teenage angst problem to deal with? I always wanted it to be the former, hell, I nearly convinced myself that it was, thousands of times, but it wasn't. Asking if I was okay was just another thing on your check list: Go grocery shopping. Check. Write a new playlist for sectionals. Check. Ask Rachel if she's okay. Check._

_ I really wanted you to be that one person that, years later when I stood on that pedestal, that beautiful stage with the bright lights all aimed at me, I could thank as 'that man that got me through those torturous years known as high school' but I can't. You failed in being that man, and now, you can finally realize what that F on your report card costs. A girl's life. I'm going to kill myself Mr. Schue, and congratulations, you've made it onto my people to thank for that list instead. Enjoy._

_ Maybe I'm being mean? Most definitely. You are a wonderful teacher as long as you don't allow yourself to be blinded by what you want to see as opposed to what is truly there. You cared, in your own way, and I'll always appreciate those times where you did help me, even if it wasn't often. You are a good person, and I hope you take this letter, my final goodbye to you, to heart and better your eye sight so that if another girl comes through with a big smile and sad eyes, you can see through it and help her before it's too late._

_ It's too late for me, by morning I'll probably be gone, and by the time you get this letter, I'll most definitely be gone from this world, and you failed me. I never want you to forget that, I looked up to you, begged for you to notice, to take care of me at school, but you didn't. I don't want you to forget me, I want you to always remember me when you walk into that choir room that I'll never set foot in again, but I don't want to haunt you. _

_When you walk into that room, think of me smiling, belting out the words to my favorite song, or haggling you for the next solo. Think of me as that girl with the amazing voice and bright future. Think of me as that unbroken girl who took the world in strides. And when a girl comes through like me, help her. If you see someone sad, talk to them. Don't take a 'fine' as an answer. But most of all __**don't**__ punish yourself. In the end, this was my decision, my own selfish decision and I take all fault for it. I want you to remember me as a happy thing, not as a regret. _

_Don't dwell on me; don't think of me as a what if. You might have been able to save me in the beginning, back when I first walked into that room, when I first auditioned, but in the end, no one could have. I was – I am – too far gone that nothing can bring me back. No matter what, you were my favorite teacher, and even if you weren't there when I needed you to be, you tried your hardest and I will always appreciate that, __**always.**_

_Remember me, please. Remember me in the hallways, the show room, on that stage in the auditorium, in your classroom. Wherever you have a happy memory of me, remember me there. But most of all, remember me in your students, in those fresh faces that haven't yet given up everything, that aren't too far gone for help. Remember me in your children both at the school and at home, and pledge to always be there for them, like you tried for me. Goodbye Mr. Schue - and thank you, truly._

_I guess that leaves the rest of you now, my peers. I don't know if one of you is reading this aloud or if you are passing it amongst yourselves quietly or even if you got this far, I hope you have. I wrote both good and bad for Mr. Schuester, all though I tried – I tried hard, to keep it criticizing. It seems that even in my farewells, I can't but help being kind, of trying for that one good thing about each and every one of you but there is one – maybe two, that I can't find anything. Maybe you know who you are, maybe you don't. Maybe you are praying it isn't you, that I can find one thing to say kind about you._

_Congratulations Santana, you are that one person that succeeded in imparting no good feelings, no fair memories that I can tell you amongst the bad. Congratulations on being such a straight up __**bitch **__I have nothing good for you. You made my life hell and you enjoyed every minute; every tear that fell was met with a laugh, every attempt of reconciliation met with ridicule. Every time I felt that I did something well, that I accomplished something, something that will get me some respect, you merely splashed a nasty scowl on that pretty face of yours and scorned me some more._

_I doubt you even care about these words, I doubt you've even stayed this long, but who cares. This isn't about you, this isn't about me getting some pretty revenge before I bite the big one. This is about me finally getting my feelings out, about me finally committing to paper what I've kept inside for so long. This is – like most of my life – is solely for me. I want to leave no words left unspoken, leave nothing bottled in before I go. I want to be at peace with myself before I leave. That is all._

_Santana, you never let me have a peaceful moment in my life. Everything I did around you was dissected, I could never relax – I was never at peace. It's funny really when you think about it, that you hated me so much but you also left me with something. In that moment of weakness Santana, you confided in me, and for two years – two long miserable years that you've left for me – I kept your secret. I would have gone to the grave with it too, after all, two people can keep a secret as long as one is dead, but I promised myself no secrets before I go, no debt left unpaid. This isn't revenge Santana, this – although you don't deserve it – is advice from a dead girl._

_Santana you're unhappy. I know why you are unhappy, and you know why you are unhappy. You need to admit it Santana, stop letting your fear control you and embrace what you are. You may be a heartless, vindictive cold woman who cares for few but herself, but you are not a coward. And you need to stop acting like one. I know that you are afraid of what the world will say, but realize this._

_The glee club didn't care when Kurt admitted he was gay, or Quinn told even she was pregnant; they forgave Quinn for making a one night mistake with Puck and they embraced Brittany for admitting her bisexuality. They will accept you for who you are. And if you have them, why care about the rest of those people? If they can't accept you, if they can't care for you and let you be free to love whomever at the same time, they don't deserve you._

_By denying it, all you do is make yourself miserable, and because you are unhappy, others are unhappy and they don't deserve that. You may not have cared about me and my death might just be an unpleasant surprise before you wipe it from your memory, simply categorize it as another stunt by that freak Berry girl, but what if it happened to someone you cared for? What if next time, it's __**Brittany **__that you break beyond repair?_

_What if it's Brittany you never see again? Maybe she won't be dead; probably not actually, Brittany loves life and is the embodiment of youth in itself, but if you keep pushing her away, if you keep denying it all, she'll leave. And then you will be alone in your bitterness. I don't care for you; you hurt me too much for me to have but disdain for you, but no one deserves to be alone, not even a heartless woman whose life's ambition was to make sure I was._

_Tell Brittany you love her. Hold her in your arms and just love her. Don't give a damn about the rest of those people; let it be just Brit and you. Maybe then, you can stop hurting people to make up for your sheer anger. Maybe another person won't get hurt like I did. I know you don't care; I know you will just deny what I said if anything comes to fruit from it; but whatever. It's not like I'll be around to appreciate you listening to me. _

_You are a horrible person; there is no other way to say it. Quite honestly, if there is any person in the world I hate, it's you. You made my life hell only because I knew you were in love with your best friend and I'll never forgive you for tearing me to pieces. You never tried to help me, if you saw me down; you kicked me and walked away. I hate you and honestly couldn't care less if you didn't listen to this. But if you do, I hope you learned something from these words._

_I hope you think twice before you saw that jarring comment. I hope you think twice before you sleep with someone just because you know someone else loves them. I hope you'll try to be nicer to everyone in general. I hope you learn that life could be so much better if you just let go of whatever makes you bitter and join in on it rather than being too afraid to let yourself take the plunge. _

_Most of all, I hope you find love. I hope you take my advice and tell Brittany you love her, I hope you care about yourself enough to honor me in that small way. I hope you love her, and spend your life with her. I have nothing else to say Santana but goodbye. You have a life ahead of you, do something worthwhile with it._

_Santana's done. Mr. Schuester's done and now I have only nine people left. Nine people to address before I bid my adieu. Nine left before I leave this stage my life's become for good. It's funny rather, that the next person I'm addressing, I met on the stage._

_Hey Tina, how is life? Hopefully better than mine will be by the time you get this. Of all the people on this, I have the kindest words about you. You were sweet to me, and we were friends. You always tried to make sure I felt better, that I felt like I belonged in a room I really didn't. You weren't always successful and we definitely had a fair share of fights along the rocky road of our friendship, mostly because I was such a selfish jerk all the time, but you still tried._

_In a world of darkness, you held a candle out to me, and I'll never forget that. I repayed you in heart ache and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I'm putting you through this, I wish we had never met, just because the pain I must be putting you through is unfair, but at the same time I'm glad we did. In a selfish way, I'm glad I knew you. You are a truly wonderful person, full of love and compassion, and you are talented. God almighty, Tina you are talented. Use that voice to your greatest benefit._

_You are hardly as shy as you once were; use these final words of mine to shed the rest of that shell you preserved yourself in. Come out into this world and shock it. Show them your talents; knock them off their feet with that beautiful voice of yours. Never let them break you like they broke me; always keep your head up high and a smile on your face. If ever, you feel it hard to keep that smile on, feel yourself tired when you shouldn't be, get help._

_Never let yourself fall down and try to pick yourself up by yourself. Never push people away. Embrace them, love them, and cherish them. Don't try to tackle the world by yourself. Never think you don't need someone. You do, everyone does. I thought I didn't and look where that got me. Dead by my own hand, six feet under the stars in a place no one goes to find, in a place no cares to look for. _

_Make sure that if you get hurt, you haven't burnt so many bridges that no one cares to help you. Make friends, find love, care for people. Mike loves you, never take him for granted, cherish him and your time together. You never know if something might happen, something unavoidable that takes you away, but never do something so stupid that you lose him because of it._

_Love people, use your voice, find your place in the world. I don't know what else I can say to you. I don't know how I can convey my gratitude for you being there. I don't what other advice I can partake to you. I loved you as a friend, and I hope you will eventually forgive me for this. Of all the people I hate doing this to, it's you. All I ask of you is that you don't let this sully our friendship. Please, remember me for the good._

_Don't hate me for this, please. I hope you can forgive me for doing this, but I'm tired, so tired. I hate what I've become and there's no escape from it. Each day my pit gets deeper and deeper and no one can reach far enough to save me, hardly anyone's trying. I can't pull myself out, I've tried and I've tried. I'm sick of it all, and I 'm finding my way out. This is my only escape Tina, I need to be free. This is the only way._

_Remember me in my happiness, remember me in our friendship, you were my best and sometimes only friend Tina, I'll appreciate you forever. Live a long and prosperous life. Become famous and have lots of beautiful Asian babies with Mike. You deserve it most of all, goodbye. Forgive me._

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><p><em><em>Sad? Well this story was never meant to be happy. I'm sorry again that this is not all of it but I hope you enjoyed what I have down. I'll post the rest soon, until next time!


	4. Letter Two Part II

__Before we begin, I would firstly like to apologize for the long hiatus between this chapter and the last, and secondly, explain why it's so short. I've decided for the last eight people, to do it one at a time, just so I can upload quicker while focusing on completing one person rather than several. The chapters are smaller but they also go into farther depth with the individual, which I liked the effect of. I hope you enjoy. Try and guess who it is before, and tell me if you got it right.

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><p><em>I never said you all cared for me, that you cared about me. Tina, and possibly a few others might have at one time, but that in the end makes it worse, to have been loved by someone one moment, hated the next. It's a constant heartache, a constant pain that never goes away, can never even be soothed or momentarily forgotten; it's there forever, a hole inside of me that throbs incessantly, a constant reminder of my selfishness, of my failures. I guess that's why, in the end, I dislike them the most. <em>

_Not hate, that's left to one of you and one of you alone, and her story has already passed my hand, my peace made. I can never hate the ones that cared for me once, because how can you hate someone you love? My definition of hate is when you simply don't care about someone, that you have neither feelings of negative or positive, someone you feel nothing for. Someone that I wouldn't care if they left my world and never came back. That I cannot say for anyone else in this letter, and that is why it hurts, that's why the hole is there, for everyone who cared and despised, for everyone that broke my heart and left me there._

_There is one of you, one person who probably cared the least. Maybe they were too busy with their own problems, God was cruel enough to give them tons, one that I can't even fathom the difficulty of. I guess that will be your excuse when you read this, maybe Artie, you will care when you read this. Be it as it may, I want you to know that in this letter, you __**hurt **__me the least of the people left. You, with your impassive eyes and cool disdain; you never led me to the cliff with the promise of protection, then watched me fall. You never lifted me up, healed my wounds, and cast me aside afterwards. _

_You never scoffed at me, or called me names. You never hurt me in anyway, but you never protected me either. Your silence didn't merely belong with the denigrating behavior of others, but also on the side of the defenders, no matter how fleeting and small that side always was. Perhaps to you, I was a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode and you wanted to steer clear of the detritus left behind, or maybe I was just an oddity, something to amuse, but of course, never engage with. Never interact._

_I think in the two years we were in glee club, we had maybe two, three conversations, one of which was a fleeting request of mine for you to help me create that disaster of a film, last year's music video, to which you agreed. You didn't even say anything to me as we processed it together, neither that it was good or bad. If you recognized the glaring mistake, the very thing that would begin the unraveling of my sordid web, the beginning of the end to my dismal tale, you didn't say anything. You didn't warn me, but that wasn't your job, was it? Your job was to process the video and make it work and it truly was a beautiful piece of artistic rendering, maybe I'll watch it one more time tonight; watch my heart break one last time before I go. _

_Don't think I am blaming you, Artie, I'm not blaming any of you. This is me alone, my last selfish act before I depart; my way of going out with a lasting bang. Maybe a part of me is afraid that you all will forget me, that through these words, I can leave a lasting depression; even if it's only a tiny indent; a half-forgotten name that you will remember as unpleasant but nothing more. If I leave even that much, my goal will have been made; my parting wish recognized. I don't hate you Artie, I already established who I did and why, but I want you to remember me. _

_I want to know that, in the end, I left something to the impenetrable blockade that was you; that I stirred something inside you, either good or bad. I'll never know of course, not if this letter is in your hand; but maybe I'll see you from where I stand. If I can, please smile for me; when you do it lights up your face. Your quite handsome Artie, and I know that you've had your heart broken, first by Tina, than Brittany, but find happiness. You having amazing talent, use it and conquer Hollywood. Create a playwright no one in their right mind will forget and then direct it and create the soundtrack yourself; it will be amazing._

_ I don't blame you Artie, but I still feel bitterness, in the deepest of my core, in my heart of hearts, and I part of me despises myself for it. Every time you showed kindness for someone, when you came up with the idea of singing our support to Quinn and Finn, when you stood up for Kurt in the locker room after football practice, I couldn't help but wonder why you didn't for me. When you stood up for all these people, spoke out for the ones whose own voices were failing, did you remain silent for me? _

_ Was I that good of an actress that you honestly didn't know what was going on? Did you not see the way the words, those jarring words that repeat in my head night after night, until I scream myself hoarse so that the pain in my throat may override the one in my heart, until I cry myself to sleep, did you not know those words hurt me? Or did you not care? Was I simply just there to you? Not a lowly animal, but not a human either? Did you hate me and felt I got what I deserved? Or did you simply think that my voice would never fail me, and that I would keep on smiling and laughing and living? _

_No one lives forever Artie, you for one knows the most on how something can be ripped from you in a moment's notice. A flash of light, a screeching of tires, and everything you have, everything you hold dear can be taken from you. But I'm not going to die in a car crash; my death would never be construed as an accident. Everyone will know what happened, and you are one of the few that will know why; or at least have a glimpse of the reason. I am choosing to take my life, just like you, time and time again, chose not to speak up. I'm not saying you are to blame, no one person is except, possibly, me. _

_But that doesn't mean what you did was right, either. Like me, you faced ridicule in high school for your disability, and like me, you've felt the sting of social oppression. You knew what it felt like and what it continues to feel like when you are by yourself and those cruel people are long gone, until you drag yourself to school the next day. You knew what it felt like to be hated for something you had no control over, but at the same time, you let someone go through the same thing without the bat of an eye or a twitch of a finger. _

_You didn't lead me to the cliff or push me off, but you stood there and watched as I fell, and you made no attempt at helping me back up. You need to realize, like Mr. Schuester does, that eyes deceive you. They blur the unpleasant things and sharpen the pleasantries, to create a customized image that fits your whims. You need to learn to see through this, and help people who need it. When you see someone in the hallway being made fun of, do a kindness and intervene. Help these people as much as you ignored me, and you can change the world. Change the lives of many in exchange for the one you let slip through your fingers. _

_Remember me Artie, in every mean word someone says while no one confronts them, in every shove witnessed and not stopped, in every black eye or bruise someone ignores, and __**change **__it. If even an ounce of you cared, even if it's just now, with these words reverberating through your head, you will heed these words. Heed these words and do a kindness. Heed these words and save a life. Goodbye Artie, even if you didn't, I cared. _

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><p>If you have any suggestions for the next seven (Brittany, Mercedes, Mike, Kurt, Finn, Puck, and Quinn) feel free to tell me, and like I said earlier, I would love to hear who you thought it was before I revealed it was Artie. Please tell me what you thought, I'd greatly appreciate it, thank you. Until next time, then.<p> 


	5. Letter Two Part III

__Warning: major bashing, if you are a Mercedes fan (yeah I ruined it) skip this one.

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><p><em>Closer to the end now, my heart beats faster as I write these words, my head pounds with the memories that swell up, streaming past my eyes. Every one of you pops up, every one of you mean something to me, or meant, I guess I should say. The few left I cared for something about you, one thing made me smile when I thought of you, although, I doubt you could say the same thing for me. One of you, maybe more than one, I can say with absolute conviction, didn't care about me and this letter won't change your view, while it Mercedes?<em>

_ Excluding Santana, you were the absolute worst to me. I know, you are probably wondering, why not Quinn, who tried to make my life miserable and helped Santana every chance she could get? Why the poor misunderstood diva who had to stand in the background as her undeniable talent was once more looked over in favor for another girl, who didn't have half your talent? Simple really, Quinn never really pretended to care, and when I helped her, she managed to lay off for a few days before resuming the hatred._

_ You on the other hand, took whatever I gave you and threw it back in my face. Viciously. You didn't care if you made me cry, you merely told everyone that I was 'acting' or being a 'diva'. You didn't care when I worked myself half to death for a solo, you complained to anyone that could hear you that I'd stolen it from you and Mr. Schuester gave it to me just 'cause. You threw me under the bus, got in, and drove over me. Then back again. And laughed all the way home. _

_You enjoyed it, tearing me down, destroying me. Even when I was on the verge, and the whole glee club knew it, you would open your mouth and speak the words that would throw me off the cliff. Then you would complain to everyone that I was 'overacting' or hurting you. I was being mean to __**you**__, I was picking on __**you**__, the whole world was unfair to __**you**__. Everything was about you, you, you. That's why you've never had a boyfriend, that's why you will always be alone. It has nothing to do with you having a full figure, because you are beautiful. _

_It's because all of your love is conserved for yourself and there isn't enough for anyone else to squeeze by. It's impossible for anyone to love you because you are the world's most self-centered person, the biggest – excuse me – bitch the world has ever seen. And you could care less, as long as at the end of the day, you are able to take the blame of yourself and put it onto someone else. Leave someone else to deal with your messes, you had something better to and God knows you are incapable of making a wrong, so it was obviously the other person's fault and therefore, their responsibility._

_I have no love for you, hating you would be too kind; I despise you, Mercedes, and everything you stood for. To me, you were the person who would smile sweetly as you stabbed me through the back and then shoved the knife to Santana. Half the things everyone thought Santana and Quinn did, you were involved in. I hope these words haunt you for the rest of your life, I hope that in every darkened corner you see the girl you forced into it, I hope in every song you sing, you hear the voice you silenced, I hope you blame yourself for the rest of your life, because you hurt me in such ways no one else on this list would have even dreamed of in a nightmare._

_Because, Mercedes, you told the school that horrible rumor. And all the ones following it were caused by you. You know what I'm talking about, that whisper you made, half joking, probably drunk, when you were angry that you were passed by again in glee club. You can deny it, you can say I'm lying, no one would dare believe me over you, you certainly made sure of that. After all, Mercedes Jones tells it like it is, she would never lie. But I'm not lying, I've never lied to any of you, I never will either. These words are my last testament, my truths to live on this world of imperfection and misery before I descend to wherever lies beyond this hell hole. _

_You told the school I was sleeping with Mr. Schuester and that's why I got the solos. You told the school the only reason some 'half-strung slut without the talent to serenade a drunken blind man' was because I had talents that resided less on the vocals of my mouth and on something much more physical. I'll never forget that moment when the school all huddled against me and whispered 'skank' as I walked by. _

_I'll never forget the moment when I was called into the office for 'serious allegations' that were brought to the attention of the school. The humiliation, the horror when all of your hard work was put to question because of some rumor that I was using my mouth for a solo show in the back of the Spanish room with the door locked and the blinds closed._

_I'll never forget the moment when I walked blindly through the hallways trying not to cry and found the guidance counselor's door locked, a small hand-written sign in a shaking hand saying they were out even when I could clearly see the woman behind it, sitting at her desk with the lights off and blinds half drawn._

_I'll never forget the moment that my last confident, the one woman that I could spill my heart to without fear of retribution ignored the pounding on her door and turned her face as if I was something disgusting to look at. I'll never forget when my life shattered so completely, when even my boyfriend wouldn't look me in the eye. _

_I'll never forget the day that our mutual friend of the time came to my house nervous and shaking, saying sorry before I even had time to greet him, and spilling it all to me. I'll never forget closing the door on him, shaking and sliding to the floor as he pounded on the door, crying for me to open up, begging for my forgiveness. I'll never forget the crushing silence that waked after his leaving, or the tears that slid down as I sat in the darkening foyer, wondering when my life had taken such a dark twist. I'll never forget the first night I dreamed of suicide, although I assure you, it wasn't the last._

_And I'll never forget the woman who caused all of it, whose words created a hole in my already deep pit, the woman who ruined my already shattered life. Congratulations Mercedes, you've completed your life-long goal. Never again will you be overlooked in the choir room, never again will a solo be passed through you and to another, less-deserving, person. Never again, will you see my face, which despise so, crowding your hallways. Never again will I be in that choir room, watching you in the back as I bask in the spot light. _

_I just hope you can still bring yourself to sing, after this. I hope that you can find solace in the voice you've been given, knowing that to showcase yours, you silenced another's. I hope you can live with yourself, knowing that you killed another person. If you can't, that's fine by me, it's not I will be around anymore. Find someone else to blame, Mercedes, because you can never touch me again. Goodbye and good riddance._

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><p><em><em>Not my best, I think this could have been better, but I wanted it up early because the next two days I won't be able to write (FFA trip that I don't want to go on, ugh). It's a bit shorter than Artie's and probably one of the darkest there will be, but I hope you liked anyway, I'll try to update soon. What do you guys want to see Rachel write to the others left (Quinn, Brittany, Finn, Puck, Mike, Kurt), and also, who do you think was the friend that told Rachel who started the rumor? Please review, until next time, then.


	6. Letter Two Part IV

__I apologize for the wait, but I found out me and my family are up and moving to another state in a month and I had a lot to deal with. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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><p><em>One more finished, only six more goodbyes until I've made my peace. Six more people who changed me in some ways or another. Some of you tried to help me, and you will be spoken kind of. Others, the ones who destroyed me worse than even Mercedes, well you will have your turn. Now, it is the one girl's turn who I blame little, despite her involvement. She was swayed by the decisions of others and her herself so sweet it is nearly impossible to dislike her, let alone blame her. <em>

_ Out of all the people, you are probably the most confused, are you not Brittany? Sweet, sweet little Brittany who loves life so much you can't imagine why someone would take their own, can you? So basked in innocence, skipping through the meadows of your mind's creation, you cannot someone being in so much pain. So sweet, so kind, little Brittany. When someone was down, you tried to help them, whether it was your best friend Santana, or quiet Artie in the back of the room. That is, except for me._

_ That's one of the things that will, for me at least, remain unanswered when I pass. Why you did what you did, why you laughed at me and tried to hurt me while you simultaneously brought Kurt under your wing and tried your hardest to love Artie. Was it because Santana didn't like me or you loathed to do anything against Santana? Or because Santana followed Quinn and you followed Santana, and Quinn hated me herself? Or did I do something to you? Did I hurt you in some way that I didn't even realize I had done, and you were trying to get back at me? Or maybe you didn't even realize what you were doing, just following the crowd, not knowing you were hurting someone, a fellow human being?_

_ Either way, those questions haunt me at night like so many others, and a part of me dislikes you for those moments, those times I watched you lend a hand to someone, while at the next moment, watch me as others pushed me, laughing and joining in. Your laugh haunts me, as I listen to its beautiful chiming noise in my nightmares, laughing over my grave. Did you know that you left me with that? That you caused me to wince in whenever you were in the vicinity, simply because your laugh itself was like a whip to my back?_

_ Do you know that when you laughed as Santana pulled my cord out to the microphone, you shattered something inside me that can never be repaired? That brought me to where I am now, writing my adieus, welcoming the end to my story? Others will be mad at me, saying I'm being too mean, cruel and self-centered in my death as I was in my life. Sweet little Brittany, innocent and naïve as she was, didn't know what was going on, didn't know that laughing at the 'jokes' her friends made was hurting someone, leading ever nearer to that cliff that I myself will push myself off at the end of these. _

_ But I don't believe that. You are naïve and innocent yes, but even a child knows when something is not right, when an injustice is being done. You did too. You knew what Santana and Quinn were doing. What Mercedes was doing, I know you did. Maybe you hoped it would go away, go away like I will, never to be spoken of, but I can't let it be. You know and I know and now the others will._

_ You would call, each and every night, like clockwork, at six o'clock, right before me and my fathers (mostly me alone in the last few years) would sit for dinner and right after your father came home, and say sorry. You never said much else, just told me you were sorry for making me sad and that you loved me. You always said you loved me, in that sweet little voice of yours, and then tell me about your day._

_ I'd listen. Your voice was infectious, and I would listen until you'd exhausted yourself describing all the flowers you walked by, the sunrise that your mother watched with you, how Lord Tubbington was reading your diary. You never talked about school and I never asked, we knew what had gone down in school, and the only mention needed was that sorry in the beginning. I forgave you every time._

_ You were my friend Britt-Britt, when we were young and my fathers put me in the same dance class as yours did when were only three. We hit it off and soon I was sleeping over at your house. We had been joined once school started by another, but they'll come later, and then it was the three of us. We were inseparable, always hanging out at school together and afterwards, we would take as long as possible to walk home, just so we could talk more, then at six o'clock, as soon as you greeted your daddy hello and before mine put dinner on the table, you'd call and we'd talk some more._

_ That all changed once high school began. You joined the cheerleaders and pretended I didn't exist and our other friend, well they will be later, won't they? You only spoke to me if it was to be mean, and you never told your new friends that you knew me. Everything changed, everything was different, except for the phone calls. They kept coming, and I answered each and every one._

_ The first time you were crying, do you remember that? Santana had drawn all those pornographic images of me in the boy's bathroom and videotaped me as I cried and you had stood there and watched. You laughed when Santana directed you to, but I knew, even through my tears, that it was forced. You hated that, you didn't understand all that Santana did that day, but you knew I was hurt, that I was sad, and that you had helped cause it._

_ So that day, when you called me, you cried. It was the first time you said sorry, but it wasn't the last. Every time you thought Santana or Quinn had gone too far or I had cried at school, you were crying when you called. You hated it all, you had told me, you hated me sad and you wanted to go back to middle school, when the world made sense to you. You were lost in your childhood fantasies, where good always won and the friends were still friends at the end of the day. _

_ I never told I loved you back, I just never did. I hated what you did to me, even if you didn't understand it. You were always content at those apologizes and I never had the heart to tell you it still hurt. But I've done it now, every world hurt far more than can be imagined, I despised it. But not you, Brittany. Not my sweet friend who I laughed with and watched television. with. I never told you in those phone calls, but I love you Brittany. Even through these past years where you stood beside Santana and laughed as she hurt me, you were my sister._

_ You are my best friend and I love you. Friends until the day we die, we'd said, never thinking how soon that time could come. But it's time now; you will never see me again, never hear me again, but don't cry. Don't feel sad, cherish my memories. Marry Santana, you love her, and she does you, even if she doesn't show it. Be happy. Always be happy, but never forget me. When you see a girl or boy who is being bullied, help them. Don't stand in the back and call for forgiveness later. It's too late for me, I've broken beyond repair and not even you could put Humpty Dumpty back together._

_ I love you, you were my first, and at times, my only friend, and although you hurt me a lot, I love you and will always do so. You deserve happiness, and you will find it in Santana. So call her at six o'clock and tell her off the sun and the rainbow you saw that day, smile with her and dance across the streets like we did as children. Remember me in the birds flying across the sky, in the stars soaring high above you in the night, and smile. _

_ Remember me for the good, remember our laughter, our dancing, our sleepovers where we talked about boys and giggled ourselves silly. Remember the tears, the mocking, the pain. Cherish the good, don't forget the bad. Remember most of all, that I love you, I always loved you as my sister. Please understand this Brittany, understand that I can't do it anymore, not the pain, not the hatred. None of it, but not the secrets either. I can't live like this, but I can't face any of you after I've said them. That's why I hope you forgive me for what I am about to do, but they need to understand as well._

_ I tried to keep it a secret Britt, but I can't do it, like Santana's love of you and women, it's a secret that's brought me down, that's destroyed part of my life. And they, not mine, but your friends deserve to know. You know they do. So here goes._

_ The reason why Brittany stopped being my friend wasn't because she met Santana, or joined the Cheerios and was convinced I would bring her down, it's because I was there the summer between eighth grade and ninth grade, where she spent the summer with her uncle. When she came home a different person and only told me why. She was raped, again and again, by the man who swore to protect her._

_ When she came home, she told me that her uncle did strange things, things she didn't understand and she didn't like. When I told her what it was, that he'd molested her, she cried and cried, and begged me not to tell. I promised I wouldn't as long as she promised never to go back. I hated myself for it, for keeping this secret for years and I've told it now. Brittany stopped being my friend because she couldn't deal with the fact that her uncle did that to her, and so by ignoring the only person who knew the truth, she was able to block herself from it._

_ She was able to go back to that innocent time before the summer and live in it for the next years. She wasn't the same, she was a lot more loosely ethical with her body and she shied away from men except for gratuitous sexual favors. She kept herself locked up and was able to convince herself that she was living, but that's not life. Santana, you need to help her, to keep her save and open her up to the world. Once, that was my job, but I'm gone now, and you need to protect her. You could ignore me of course, but I doubt you will, you could never when it involved Brittany._

_ I love you Brittany, even if you hate me now for spilling the secrets, and I want to protect you like I couldn't that summer. I hope you can forgive a dead woman, but if you can't, I'll probably never know. Love you, forgive me, farewell, sweet Brittany S. Pierce, my forever friend._

* * *

><p><em><em>Well, it's longer than the others and I'm not sure if it was my favorite. But I hope you enjoyed it none the less. It was brought to my attention by someone (can't remember who but you know who you are) that maybe I should do the reactions of everyone, so if you agree with that person just tell me. Also, if you have any requests for the next people (Quinn, Puck, Mike, Finn, and Kurt) just tell me and I will try to write it in. Also, I wasn't sure about the rape thing, but I added it because I wanted a reason for Brittany to no longer be friends with Rachel. Tell me what you thought, and until next time, then.


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